


Three Years and Nothing Left

by graphic_winged_observer



Series: Within the Walls of 221b [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphic_winged_observer/pseuds/graphic_winged_observer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Visiting the dead isn't always the best, but it helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Years and Nothing Left

**Author's Note:**

> The characters of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson created by Sir Author Conan Doyle.  
> The setting of Sherlock (BBC) created by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.  
> I do not own these characters, I’m just borrowing them for this idea.

It had been three years since John found himself staring at that black headstone, he hadn't visited it once but something drew him here today. His legs wobbled beneath him as he stared unblinking at the black rock that marked where Sherlock Holmes was buried.  
  
"Been a long time," he spoke, his knees finally buckling and tumbling him to the hard ground. "You know, for a long time I didn't have a reason to come and see you. I'd met someone, she was smart and playful, took my mind off you...a lot." He cast his eyes around the graveyard, catching the back of a very similar gravestone. "Mary.... Her name was Mary," John whispered into the wind.  
  
"I think you would have liked her, she wasn't boring." He turned back to the grave marker, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "But then you did think that everything about normal life was boring and dull, so maybe not. She was...," John stopped, trying to breath normally. "She was hit by a car last week, she, uh...she didn't make it." He gestured back to the new grave being filled in. "I thought I was alone when you died, but I met her shortly after. Now--." John was trying his best to keep his breathing level but as he stared at the cold, unyielding stone, his resolve broke. "Now I really am alone." He sobbed for several minutes before finally able to regain some of his composure. "And I don't know how I'll survive it this time." His eyes widened as an impossible figure stepped out from behind the nearest tree, his own face sad.  
  
"Oh my John. I'm so sorry." The look on John's face as someone he was so sure was six feet below him knelt before him, was somewhere between wanting to hit him or hug him. The depression sinking into his mind chose to hug Sherlock Holmes, who; for the time in his life, embraced him back.


End file.
